Castor had half expected Melton to make the offer, counted on him to, it still surprised him. The duke drew leisurely on his cigar, hiding his distaste for a man who would bow so low as to sell his daughter to satisfy a debt. “And what would I do with this daughter of yours? I don’t need another servant.” He tilted his head. “Or are you proposing she be my mistress?”
Melton had the grace to flush. “You can do what you like with her.”
“ Anything I like?”
“She has little marriage prospects in any case.” The earl shrugged, tossing down another shot of brandy. He appeared to have regained his confidence now that he had thought of a solution. “As long as she is returned I care not what you do with her. At least she is not useless like the rest of her sex and can manage my household. You might like to teach her to hold her tongue though. She has a sharp one in that head of hers. I’ve tried to beat it out of her but she’s still a damned stubborn chit.”
Castor clenched his teeth, holding back the tide of rage that threatened to engulf him. The thought of this bastard laying a hand on the woman he had wanted for so long brought him to the edge of his control as nothing ever had. “Three months. I want her for three months.”
“What?” The earl looked startled. “Three months! I can’t have her absent for three months. One month.”
The duke narrowed his eyes. “Even Prinny would be hard pressed to spend 8,000 pounds on a mistress in a month.”
“Two,” said Melton hurriedly. “Two months.”
“Three.” Castor paused. “Or you can start packing your bags.”
The earl shot him a venomous look, obviously seething, but he said nothing.
“I thought so.” Castor stood up, casually straightening his shirtsleeves. “I will have my man of business visit your lodgings at six with the papers.”
Devonshire, two days later
Lady Arabella Griffith felt the blood drain from her face. “You did what ?”
George Griffith, the sixth earl of Melton had an implacable expression on his face. “You heard me.”
“I am to be used to settle this debt? Your own daughter?” Bella shook her head in denial. “No, you cannot do this. What about the cottage? You can sell it and use the proceeds to—”
“No. It will not cover my debt. Not even a tenth of it.”
Her mouth fell open. “Not even a tenth? What have you done?” The last was uttered in a whisper. Truly, she shouldn’t be shocked. She knew, had known since she was fifteen, her father’s predilection for gambling. His finances having been in dire straits, he had married her mother, who had a large marriage portion. The earl’s prospective father-in-law had been fully aware of the vulnerable position his daughter would be in once she was wedded. He had therefore made specific provisions in the marriage settlement in relation to the control of the funds, which meant that the earl had been forced to curb his gambling habit while the countess was alive. Within months of Bella’s mother’s death, a family friend who was in London for the season informed Bella of the rumours that her father was spending an extraordinary amount of time at gaming hells where the owners were more than delighted to relieve him of his coin.
Bella had written to him, begging him to stop but her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Her attempts at reducing household expenses were for naught as the gambling debts soon reached astronomical amounts. Having received no wages for many months, the servants began to leave. A year passed and the estate began to fall into a state of disrepair. Then there was no money for heating. There was barely enough for food. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had had meat of any kind. Their meals consisted of bread, some cheese and whatever vegetables she and their housekeeper, Mrs Lane, could salvage from the pathetic little vegetable plot they tended next to the now empty stables.
“You cannot, Papa. You cannot
Melton had the grace to flush. “You can do what you like with her.”
“ Anything I like?”
“She has little marriage prospects in any case.” The earl shrugged, tossing down another shot of brandy. He appeared to have regained his confidence now that he had thought of a solution. “As long as she is returned I care not what you do with her. At least she is not useless like the rest of her sex and can manage my household. You might like to teach her to hold her tongue though. She has a sharp one in that head of hers. I’ve tried to beat it out of her but she’s still a damned stubborn chit.”
Castor clenched his teeth, holding back the tide of rage that threatened to engulf him. The thought of this bastard laying a hand on the woman he had wanted for so long brought him to the edge of his control as nothing ever had. “Three months. I want her for three months.”
“What?” The earl looked startled. “Three months! I can’t have her absent for three months. One month.”
The duke narrowed his eyes. “Even Prinny would be hard pressed to spend 8,000 pounds on a mistress in a month.”
“Two,” said Melton hurriedly. “Two months.”
“Three.” Castor paused. “Or you can start packing your bags.”
The earl shot him a venomous look, obviously seething, but he said nothing.
“I thought so.” Castor stood up, casually straightening his shirtsleeves. “I will have my man of business visit your lodgings at six with the papers.”
Devonshire, two days later
Lady Arabella Griffith felt the blood drain from her face. “You did what ?”
George Griffith, the sixth earl of Melton had an implacable expression on his face. “You heard me.”
“I am to be used to settle this debt? Your own daughter?” Bella shook her head in denial. “No, you cannot do this. What about the cottage? You can sell it and use the proceeds to—”
“No. It will not cover my debt. Not even a tenth of it.”
Her mouth fell open. “Not even a tenth? What have you done?” The last was uttered in a whisper. Truly, she shouldn’t be shocked. She knew, had known since she was fifteen, her father’s predilection for gambling. His finances having been in dire straits, he had married her mother, who had a large marriage portion. The earl’s prospective father-in-law had been fully aware of the vulnerable position his daughter would be in once she was wedded. He had therefore made specific provisions in the marriage settlement in relation to the control of the funds, which meant that the earl had been forced to curb his gambling habit while the countess was alive. Within months of Bella’s mother’s death, a family friend who was in London for the season informed Bella of the rumours that her father was spending an extraordinary amount of time at gaming hells where the owners were more than delighted to relieve him of his coin.
Bella had written to him, begging him to stop but her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Her attempts at reducing household expenses were for naught as the gambling debts soon reached astronomical amounts. Having received no wages for many months, the servants began to leave. A year passed and the estate began to fall into a state of disrepair. Then there was no money for heating. There was barely enough for food. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had had meat of any kind. Their meals consisted of bread, some cheese and whatever vegetables she and their housekeeper, Mrs Lane, could salvage from the pathetic little vegetable plot they tended next to the now empty stables.
“You cannot, Papa. You cannot
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